


Love Me Blindfolded

by Anonymous_Ostrich



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe, One-Sided Attraction, Power Dynamics, Sexual Bargains, Unrequited Love, but the ending hints that it might not stay unrequited forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 16:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20428760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Ostrich/pseuds/Anonymous_Ostrich
Summary: The Q knew all about the mirror universe that lay just on the edge of the Prime universe, they knew the warped version of history that had played out in place of the much more optimistic Federation outcome. There were countless universes with endless variances, and the Q could navigate each and every one of them as easily as turning the pages of an old book. This reality was not any more or less jarring than any other.i.e. Q meets Mirror!Jean-Luc Picard, and stays for longer than he ought to.





	Love Me Blindfolded

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! It's been a while since I've written for this ship, but the 2019 Big Bang spurred me into action!  
My partner is the amazingly talented [zmeeley](https://zmeeley.tumblr.com/), and you can find their INCREDIBLE art for this fic [HERE!](https://zmeeley.tumblr.com/post/187332562411/art-for-the-qcard-big-bang-illustrationwith)

He _looked _like Picard. Most of the time, that was enough.

Aside from the silver goatee that barely suited him and the bulkier, more muscular physique and an appalling lack of sleeves, both versions of Jean-Luc Picard were physically identical. But not the eyes. Their eyes were different. Q's Picard - the Picard he was familiar with - had soft, stern eyes. Hopeful but guarded. Vulnerable, perhaps, but endearingly so. They were earnest when they needed to be, shining with enduring passion that never seemed to fade with time or hardship. The _other's_ eyes were cold and calculating and hard as stone, always looking for the next attack, the next advantage, the next betrayal. But that wasn't the biggest difference between them. It was the intent. Q's Jean-Luc looked at Q with annoyance and exasperation, and more recently he had begun to regard him with a certain friendliness, a distant camaraderie. He _saw _Q. Truly saw him.

This Picard looked right through him. Q was _nothing _to him. For some reason or other, that irked him.

Q wasn't surprised, of course. The Q knew all about the mirror universe that lay just on the edge of the Prime universe, they knew the warped version of history that had played out in place of the much more optimistic Federation outcome. There were countless universes with endless variances, and the Q could navigate each and every one of them as easily as turning the pages of an old book. This reality was not any more or less jarring than any other.

Even so, Q hated to see those eyes dismiss him with such cold indifference. Perhaps this was the reason he continued to visit. He wanted to be seen. For that reason, he appeared today in Picard's ready room just as the Captain was enjoying a rare moment of quiet.

"Why do you continue to pester me?" Picard barked crossly without looking up from his desk. At least he'd grown used to Q's spontaneous visits, meaning he no longer flung daggers or fired at him with whatever weapon he happened to have on his person at the time. He'd long been convinced of Q's invulnerability. Picard took a sip of tea, his eyes glued to the PADD in his hand. "Your presence is obviously unwanted, and yet you come back again and again. If you are as powerful as you say, why not simply do what you've come to do and be done with it?"

Floating casually above the desk, legs and arms both crossed, Q stared down at the top of Picard's gleaming head with a miffed pout on his lips. "You're no fun, you know. No sense of humor. Well, I guess he doesn't have one either, so at least _that's _consistent."

Picard scoffed, setting his PADD aside to pick up another, his sharp eyes scouring the information on the screen. "'_He'_," Picard repeated darkly, shaking his head. "Every time you pop up, you compare me to someone else. Is it supposed to make me jealous? Inquisitive?"

"Not particularly."

"Then leave me be. You'll get nothing from me, faerie."

Q hummed thoughtfully. "Faerie! That's one I haven't heard in a while." He floated lazily away from the desk, laying back on air with his arms behind his head, sighing loudly to convey his disappointment. "You surprise me, Captain. Your little empire is so preoccupied with attaining power and influence, I would think you'd jump at the chance to bargain with a god. Yet every time I grace you with my magnanimous company, you dismiss me out of hand."

Picard chuckled cynically. "A God," he repeated with biting disbelief, "And what could a lowly human possibly offer you, a mighty God, in return for your services?" His eyes flicked up to regard the entity for the first time since Q had appeared. "If you were here to bargain, I'd expect you'd have already made your pitch."

"I never said I would provide services. Only that you never even took a _stab_ at it." Q's shoulders pulled up in an innocent shrug. "Seems like a wasted opportunity, is all."

"This other man you keep comparing me to. Did he bargain, did he desire power and influence? And did you help him achieve it?"

Q stared at the ceiling blankly. His essence deflated and suddenly he felt a rush of hot shame course through his center, sick with himself for coming back to this tainted place over and over again. He'd never felt so pathetic. Q never spent time considering the 'why' of his preoccupation with this universe as of late, for fear that once he started he would have to come to terms with certain feelings regarding the Picard he knew best, the Picard that finally looked at him - tentatively - as a friend.

Because that's all it was. He was a _friend,_ and barely that. That's all it would ever be.

"No. He would probably rather shoot himself in the foot than ask me for anything." Q answered, perhaps too bitterly. "He has no need for such things. He's from a place that values peace above all else."

"How utterly idiotic."

"I used to think so." Q said, and then said nothing more.

He needed to leave. He couldn't keep coming back here, hoping for something he shouldn't want, something that wouldn't even be _real _even if he were to indulge his own deranged fantasy. Q wasn't usually in the habit of torturing himself, but what could this be if not torture? Dangling himself in front of this twisted version of the human he cared for like a cut of meat, in hopes of what, exactly? Did he really want to be accepted by Picard so badly that he would prostitute himself like this?

Q was so absorbed in his own turbulent, shameful thoughts he hadn't even noticed Picard rise from his desk and walk around it to approach the floating entity, his cold eyes fixed to him like a lion approaching its unwitting prey. Q's awareness finally picked up on the change in his companion's behavior and he frowned.

The smile curling Picard's lips was unfamiliar to Q. He was wholly unaccustomed to seeing that expression on Picard, one so knowing and devious. The proverbial tables had been turned and Q's panic was mounting. The Q did not know fear. They had no need of it, they were not lowly mortal prey animals, and so the sensation that gripped Q's essence as Picard circled a hand tightly around Q's wrist and yanked him down to force their mouths together practically wrung his essence into a queasy knot. He did nothing to pull away as Picard angled his head and urged Q to part his lips enough for him to dip his tongue inside, he did nothing as Picard's other hand grabbed the back of Q's head, fingers curling in his hair to hold him firmly in place.

He did nothing except sink into the heat of Picard's lips, his shame overshadowed by the exhilaration of this intimate contact. His eyes fell closed and for a tenth of a second, he allowed himself the selfish illusion that he was being kissed by the human he cared for, not some murderous, faithless tyrant.

Picard released Q's wrist and pulled away but kept a firm, savage grip on Q's hair, staring deeply and intently into the entity's eyes. Q's tongue may as well have been made of stone, useless and still in his mouth.

"I see now," Picard's voice was a low rumble, the corner of his lips turned up in that same wolfish grin. "This other man you keep going on about. You want something from him that he refuses to give you, is that right? Perhaps he's not open to your advances?" Their faces were so close their noses touched. Picard's breath was hot on Q's slightly open mouth. "For all your cosmic power, you still prefer consent. Why is that, I wonder?"

Q's infinite mind finally whirred back to life, all his profound shame and trepidation crashing down on him like a shock wave. He leveled Picard a glare that bordered on murderous and his voice was a growl through clenched teeth. "How _dare _you, you presumptuous _plebeian_."

"How dare I?" Picard chuckled, unbothered by the insult. "You could have easily stopped me, or were you exaggerating your omnipotence?" Q tried not to let his humiliation show, but human bodies were so very poor at hiding tension. "I thought you would be happy. At long last, I've figured out the reason for your persistent visits. And don't bother denying it - if there's anything I know, it's desire. For power or sex, it's all the same. What else could a being such as yourself - with the power to alter time and space at your fingertips - want from a _plebeian _such as myself? By comparison, I may as well be an insect for you to step on. What else could you want than what that other man denies you?"

"I could unmake you with a single thought." Q threatened darkly.

"Perhaps, but I suspect you won't." Picard answered him with confidence. He tilted his head to tease his mouth over Q's again. "Do I look like him? Sound like him, perhaps?" Q could feel his insides coiling with equal parts disgust and longing. "What would you offer me if I promised you a place in my bed?"

Raw panic consuming him, Q fled Picard's grip, his ready room, and his universe.

No matter how much distance he put between himself and that dark facsimile of Picard, he could not erase the feeling of hot, unyielding lips against his own, or the deep swelling of lust that fanned to life within his essence.

.

.

.

It would be several months before Q appeared before Picard again.

He appeared in Picard's private chambers, when Picard was undressing for the night. There were countless better times to appear, but after their last encounter, he was desperate to gain the upper hand in some way or other, to catch Picard in a moment of rare vulnerability.

To announce himself, Q whistled like a sailor on shore leave who'd just seen a woman for the first time in months.

It was truly remarkable, how quickly Terrans reacted to danger. As soon as Q let himself be known, Picard spun on his heel, a knife somehow already in hand, arm bent back in preparation to fling it at his potential attacker. Q allowed himself a certain amount of smug satisfaction for drawing such a primitive reaction from him. Picard relaxed when he followed the voice to its owner, realization flashing over his fierce expression.

"You again." Picard sighed and set his knife aside, completely unconcerned with his own nudity. "Try that again, and you'll have another opportunity to prove your self-proclaimed invincibility."

"It's nice to see you too," Q chirped with a pleasant grin.

Picard picked his pants up off the floor, having dropped them in his surprise, but made no move to put them on. Q felt his small victory was short-lived; it almost seemed as though Picard were exposing himself purposefully, now.

"Care to explain why you've decided to visit me now, and in my quarters no less?" Picard asked, shaking out his pants and slowly lifting a leg to slip them on. Q felt his human throat work in a long, visible swallow, and he glanced elsewhere in a way that he hoped appeared nonchalant.

"I wasn't aware I owed you an explanation for anything I do or do not do, Captain." It was so, so hard to feign menace when he was more or less crawling back to this man like a dog with its tail between its legs. "The last time we spoke, I rather thought you wanted to see more of me."

Picard's mouth tugged up in the same suggestive smile Q remembered from his last visit. Q's panic reemerged but he firmly stomped on it. "It was rude of you to leave so abruptly. I don't offer myself to just every God I meet, you know."

Q nearly laughed at Picard's wording. Q hadn't even remotely felt like Picard had _offered _himself to him, like some sacrificial maiden. If they were breaking it down into clichéd gender roles, Q felt much more like the maiden than anything. Picard wasn't offering himself, he wanted to take possession of Q. He wanted to rule him. Q was not in the habit of being ruled, even by his own. "I _also _don't owe you any apologies for lack of manners."

"No of course not," Picard answered. "But regardless, here you are."

Q paused, his jaw clenching. "Here I am."

Picard walked to the table beside his bed, picking up a mug of dark liquid and raising it to his lips. Q watched him calculatingly, his eyes tracing the lines of Picard's back, the bend of his spine, the subtle flex of his muscles. He followed every thin, long, lily-white scar that hugged his back and sides, all of them proof of the murders he'd either committed or evaded, Q couldn't be sure.

"Let's presume for the moment that I'm considering your offer," Q said, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, his fingertips touching to form a cage. "What manner of favors would you be asking of me?"

"Does it matter?" Picard asked curiously, sitting himself on the edge of his bed, facing Q. "Don't tell me a God has restrictions. Or is it morality you're concerned with?"

"Morality is subjective. I just don't want to get into trouble with my superiors."

"So you do have restrictions."

Q scoffed and pointedly rolled his eyes. "Humans are so wonderfully idiotic. I am capable of anything you can imagine, but what makes you think I'm the only Q out there? If the Others caught me disrupting space-time or altering the natural order of the universe in any permanent way, the outcome would not be ideal. Do you really think omnipotent entities can just roam the universe completely unchecked?"

Picard's eyes became hard and focused, his hand raising to rub thoughtfully at his beard. "So it comes down to that, does it," he mused. "Well, I have no real interest in altering the natural order of the universe. My desires are much more earthly, I would think, more in the realm of eliminating certain persons and ruling certain others." He glanced at Q with casual interest. "Surely your superiors wouldn't oppose to such a small use of your power."

Q leaned forward in his seat, eyes blazing. "I haven't yet agreed to anything, you know. Whether or not I can accomplish what you wish of me isn't the issue at present - I'm not a genie. I've come back here to determine whether or not it's worth my precious time to even explore…" He gestured vaguely. "…This."

"You can't even say it, can you?" Picard leered. "Sex. It's sex you want, from me specifically. And all I want in return is a few snaps of your omnipotent fingers."

Q's eyes narrowed. "I dislike the thought of being used."

"And what exactly would you consider _my _role in this arrangement?" Picard shot back. "Being used is only demeaning if you're not using someone yourself. This is an even exchange, wouldn't you say? Dare I say, a partnership."

Q came here hoping to gain back some control, to earn back just a shred of his self-respect, but already he was feeling like a piece of meat on display. He was bargaining with a bloodthirsty doppelganger of a human he held in high regard, the only human in this vast and unending universe who had earned both his trust and his interest, and he was actually considering - _seriously _considering - a sexual relationship with him. Was relationship even the right word? This was a business transaction, if anything. Unsavory cosmic favors in exchange for human sexual practices with a man who resembled the mortal creature of his affections but cared for him not one jot.

At best, it was completely insane. At worst, it was an utter betrayal of his existence, his pride, and _his _Jean-Luc Picard.

_This _Picard was very good at moving when Q was absorbed in his thoughts, and even better at catching Q off-guard in those same moments. Before he realized it, Picard had left the bed and had appeared in front of Q, kneeling slowly on the floor to rest between Q's spread thighs. Q tensed but otherwise did nothing, watching, waiting, as Picard gently placed his hands - so different from his own Jean-Luc's hands, knuckles ravaged with white scars - on Q's knees, his fingers gently squeezing. It felt possessive. Q's essense thrummed.

"We don't need to worry about who is doing what for whom," Picard's voice was low and suggestive, and it sent a shiver through Q's entire self. He'd never heard Picard's voice sound like that, so husky and inviting, like he was talking to a lover. "Why not just enjoy ourselves for now?"

Picard raised a hand and pressed his fingers against the material of Q's Starfleet uniform, slowly, slowly gliding up, trailing over Q's stomach, his chest, slipping up to his neck and then curling behind Q's neck to drag him down into a kiss. Q barely moved, letting Picard guide him, his essence boiling and churning with millions of things he couldn't identify. Picard's other hand, still grasping Q's knee, began its ascent, slowly and purposefully gliding up Q's thigh. Q's breathing hitched. He wanted this. He wanted it, _so _badly, so why was he…?

Why?

.

.

.

"And?"

Q glanced behind him at Captain Picard - the one that hadn't murdered thousands in cold blood, the one who wasn't a genocidal maniac - who was sitting at his desk with a PADD in his hand, the same PADD he'd been holding since Q popped into his ready room, which led Q to believe two things: One, that Jean-Luc wasn't actually reading anything on that PADD and was using it as a ploy to appear like he wasn't listening, and Two, that Picards spent far too much time reading PADDs in every universe.

Q was sitting on Jean-Luc's couch, arms spread out along the backrest, an ankle perched on his knee. "Hm?"

Jean-Luc sighed exasperatingly and lowered the PADD, finally giving up his disinterested facade. "And? What happened after that?"

"Oh, you were listening?" Q chirped in mock-surprise. Jean-Luc issued him a hard look.

"It's very difficult _not _to listen, especially when you refuse to leave my ready room when asked."

"Are you certain it has nothing what-so-ever to do with the fact that my story involves an unscrupulous, murderous alternative-universe version of yourself?" Q asked with a challenging grin.

Jean-Luc held up his PADD again, pointedly. "Ah yes, of course. For being an immortal entity with an eternity to busy yourself with, one would think you'd have a better imagination."

"Every word has been absolutely true! I'm simply _dreadful _at fiction, Jean-Luc." Q didn't typically lie, not outright, nothing more than a playful misdirection, but this statement was possibly the closest he'd ever come. He hadn't lied, of course, but the omissions in his story were glaring. There were things he couldn't say, things like stolen kisses and propositions of sexual favors and Q almost, _almost _accepting those terms. Killing innocent(ish) people for a chance to be loved by someone who looked and sounded like his Jean-Luc. No, those facts weren't for Jean-Luc to know. So he'd touched up the story somewhat, polished it up, but the bare bones were still there. "Why do you think I dropped you in Sherwood Forest, and not somewhere more original? Besides, I know the 'mirror' universe is no secret to Starfleet."

"Fine, fine." Jean-Luc shook his head, as though he were regretting every word of this exchange. He probably was, but at least he was humoring Q in some capacity. It was nice to be humored at all, actually. "I suppose I just don't know how I feel hearing about my counterpart, ah, over there."

Q crossed his arms behind his head, his gaze trailing to the ceiling. "I certainly don't want to upset you,_ mon capitaine_. I'll just drop it, shall I?"

Jean-Luc frowned at him reproachfully. "Right at the end, _really_. Just tell me what happened next, Q."

"Nothing."

The PADD was set down with an impatient clack. "After all that, you'd deny me an ending to your story?"

Q's large eyes blinked. "No, Jean-Luc. 'Nothing' is how it ends. I refused, I left, and I came to visit you here on your silly little starship."

Jean-Luc's expression changed to one of honest surprise. His eyes softened, so slight that only Q's infinite gaze could have caught the shift. "You _just _came back from…?"

Q hummed. "Of course. Why not?"

"I- Well. I just thought perhaps you were telling me about something that had happened some time ago. Not- not _moments _ago."

"Time is meaningless to something like me, you know that."

Silence prevailed for a time. Jean-Luc looked like he was considering what he'd heard, and Q wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "You never mentioned what he offered you." Jean-Luc finally said, curiously. "What could a mirrored version of myself offer you to even make you consider doing such reprehensible things?"

Q felt something cold and stiff lodge itself into his physical throat. He attempted smugness but it came out much more irritable than he intended. "What makes you think I would need the insignificant temptations of a mortal to be reprehensible?"

"You are many things, Q, but you are not reprehensible. Morally questionable at times, perhaps, but nothing more sinister than that."

Q raised a hand to where his heart would be. "A compliment, _mon capitaine_?"

"An observation."

A silence settled between them again. Q was hoping Jean-Luc would fill it by changing the subject, let Q off of the hook, but Jean-Luc was staring at him pointedly and that question still lingered in the air. Q criss-crossed his hands over his knee.

"He offered me something that you could never give me." Q said simply. "That's all." To Q's amazement - and perhaps his annoyance - Jean-Luc let loose a tame chuckle, almost chiding in its tone. Q's expression hardened; he couldn't help but bristle a little. "What's so funny?"

Jean-Luc's eyebrows climbed up his forehead, as though he hadn't expected Q to take offense. "I'm simply having a hard time imagining a war-mongering version of myself offering you something you couldn't easily take for yourself," he answered.

"You'd be surprised," Q grumbled. "Oh, why did I even _tell _you any of this? I should have known you wouldn't have taken it seriously."

Jean-Luc sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry," he said with surprising tenderness. Q didn't possess a single drop of real blood in his mortal body, but his skin paled regardless. "I'm taking it seriously, I am."

Q hummed disbelievingly. Jean-Luc leveled him a look.

"Why haven't you ever offered me anything?" Jean-Luc asked curiously.

"I tried to do you a favor, once. You refused, remember?"

"And then you did it anyway, yes. This is different," Jean-Luc pointed out. "You offered the other me power and conquest and fame."

"I did no such thing. It was all _his _idea."

"You considered it."

Q frowned. Then he sat forward, watching Jean-Luc with a calculating eye, and then he stood, moving to Jean-Luc's desk and sitting himself right on the corner.

"Fine. Ask something of me, then. Anything."

Jean-Luc stared back at Q unwaveringly. "Get off my ship."

"Something _other _than that."

Jean-Luc sighed. "Is this a real offer?" he asked, skeptical. "Anything I want, you'll make it a reality?"

"Just name it." Q answered. He was deadly serious. This was the all or nothing moment, the moment that was going to answer once and for all whether or not Q had really just blown the only chance he would ever get to a relationship with the mortal object of his affections. Q wasn't even really sure what it was about or what this little experiment could possibly say about his tentative relationship with Jean-Luc, but he knew that the other Picard's voice still echoed in his memory, promising him a place in his bed and in his life.

"You're capable of almost anything, I assume," Jean-Luc murmured, fingers rubbing thoughtfully over his mouth. "Bringing back the dead, changing certain historical events, setting right the things that have gone wrong."

Q knew of Jean-Luc's deceased brother and nephew. They'd never spoken of it, but he knew. "Of course."

"And you'll grant me anything I ask? What will I owe you in return?"

"Nothing at all. This one's on the house."

Jean-Luc nodded. He dragged a deep sigh in through his nose, held it, and let it out in a decisive huff. "Two cups of tea then, please," he said. "Earl grey for myself. Hot."

Q watched Jean-Luc closely, waiting for the punchline, but none came. Jean-Luc wasn't a punchline sort of person in the first place, but Q was too perplexed to be bothered with the obvious.

"Tea?"

"Yes."

"Tea. Tea that you could just, _get up_ and grab from your primitive replicator over there?" Q jabbed a thumb behind him at said replicator as if Jean-Luc might have forgotten where it was.

"Yes, that's right."

Q glanced around the room, hoping someone or something might suddenly show up to explain to him just what in the cosmos this mortal was playing at.

"There is a time and a place for jokes, Jean-Luc, but this isn't one of them."

Jean-Luc looked mildly affronted. "You said _anything_, Q. I'm asking for two cups of tea."

"Wh- Why _two _cups?"

"It would be exceptionally rude not to have you join me," Jean-Luc pointed out, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk and pushing his PADD aside to make room. "Unless of course, the Q have the power to change the gravitational constant of the universe but can't swallow a cup of hot leaf-water."

Q rarely found himself at a loss for words, but here he was. He stared at Jean-Luc for a long moment, his eyes dark and round and searching, but Jean-Luc gave him nothing, simply sitting there, all casual anticipation until Q had no choice but to throw his arms in the air.

"Anything in the universe!" Q exclaimed, uncertain as to why he was so irate. "I offer you anything you could ever dream of- no, no, _beyond _anything your simple monkey-brain could ever even _hope _to _imagine_, and yet you settle for, for-"

"For your company, Q," Jean-Luc interjected calmly, his words cutting across Q like a sudden breeze. A warm breeze. "I would never abuse your powers like that. And I would certainly never bend the natural laws of the universe just to suit myself, you _know _that. If you're so keen to grant me something, all I ask is your company. No games, no deceptions, just a nice chat between two sentient beings who have come a long way from despising one another, over tea."

Q felt heat crawl into his essence, sickly sweet and tingling, similar to when the mirror Picard had kissed him but _more_, more intense, more meaningful, more _real_.

Q raised his hand and snapped his fingers without any of his usual flair; he was too shell-shocked to do anything more than what had been asked of him, he couldn't think beyond this small show of friendliness he was being awarded. An ember of hope that Q thought had long fizzled out fanned to life, burning like a lonely star in a black, burnt-out galaxy. Two steaming cups of tea appeared on the desk, complete with saucers of milk and sugar, a plate of biscuits, and two tiny little spoons. Q didn't like doing things halfway.

Q sat himself down in the chair Jean-Luc indicated earlier, though it felt vaguely unnatural. His human throat worked in a thick swallow. "I never really despised you, you know."

Jean-Luc was already blowing gently over his tea. "Well, I quite despised you. But lately, you've been much more tolerable. Dare I say amicable."

Q had absolutely no interest in his own tea - he wasn't even sure what brew he'd created for himself - but he poured some milk and dumped several spoonfuls of sugar into his cup regardless, stirring slowly. "Don't tell me this is a pity invitation," he groaned.

"No, not at all," Jean-Luc scoffed, taking a careful sip of his tea. His face twitched in pleasant surprise, and Q had to bite his tongue to keep from admitting that he'd made Jean-Luc the most incredible cup of Earl Grey the universe could conjure up. "I was just thinking that maybe it's time. Time to talk, settle our differences. Try and enjoy each other's company instead of antagonizing one another."

_Enjoy one another_. Q's core did a somersault. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, Jean-Luc, only one of the two of us routinely antagonized the other."

Jean-Luc allowed himself a small smile. "Be that as it may, I no longer feel very antagonized, so I suppose it's fine if you pop in from time to time. To talk."

"To talk." Q repeated, holding his cup tightly in his hands. "As friends?"

Jean-Luc averted his eyes. He cleared his throat. "One step at a time, Q. Let's get through our tea, first."

A universe away, there was a man who looked like Jean-Luc Picard, a man who offered Q a place in his bed if he desired it, and all it would cost was a few snaps of his fingers. Q was accustomed to getting everything he wanted the instant he wanted it, and he _wanted _Jean-Luc, truly wanted him, but for the first time in his infinite life, he thought maybe he could wait. Even if he never got exactly what he wanted, even if Jean-Luc only ever considered him a friend, maybe that was enough. Maybe being near him was enough.

But, that ember of hope still burned.

Q's mouth pulled into a smile, honest and hopeful. "Of course, _mon capitaine_."

**Author's Note:**

> My depiction for Mirror!Picard is pretty much directly from the comic 'Mirror Broken', which I would definitely recommend if you were ever curious about what the characters from TNG would be like in the mirrorverse!
> 
> Thank you to [q-card on Tumblr](q-card.tumblr.com) for putting this Big Bang together!


End file.
